


Flying: When You Laugh Like That

by windandthestars



Category: Arctic Air
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, First Time, Kink, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's also what makes her next move a little easier, knowing that maybe if she goes through with it, if she sees him the way everyone else does, just the way everyone else does, it won't hurt so much when he drops her off at her front door later that night and she never sees him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying: When You Laugh Like That

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/gifts).



> Non-explicit sex and underage drinking. Written for kink bingo (tickling).

She supposes it's because they've practically grown up together that he's always treated her differently than he treats the other kids. In a way it's a relief, being treated more like his sister than anything else. Less funny looks and disbelieving sighs when she says she hasn't slept with Bobby Martin, thank you very much. He jokes around with her like he does with his friends, the other guys, teases her; he doesn't lay it on her like he does a lot of the girls. She’d probably sucker punch him if he did though, so she figures it’s for the best. When she can be bothered to notice all that flirting, it makes her sick. She wishes he would stop trying so hard and just be Bobby, even if, really, she didn’t want to share him, share that Bobby, with anyone else.

Flirting she supposes does have some purpose, although she doesn't see much of a point in it. She's always been more interested in flying than boys and to that say Mel approved of this proclivity in his daughter would be an understatement. He’d had her work weekends around the hanger for as long as she could remember, long before he started paying her. Turning sixteen had meant making supply runs any day she had off from school as long as there was enough light. She's surprised Mel lets her tutor Bobby unsupervised. It’s time away from his beloved flying, but then again it wasn't like Bobby wasn't always hanging around anyway, talking to the mechanics and other pilots that knew is parents, distracting her, liberating food from the one Jurassic vending machine in the break room.

Bobby and her talked about that sometimes, parents, mainly his parents and her mom, but most of the time when the two of them hang out, it's the two of them and chemistry, calculus or whatever else it is that Bobby's taking that semester. He's a smart kid, tutoring him is more like study hall than anything, but he's not as interested in school as he is in sports and girls. The time they spend together means he actually applies himself, like a man should Mel would say, clapping a hand against his shoulder in what Krista assumes is some sort of hard won token of solidarity on her father's part.

Sometimes though, when Mel's not around, when the office is empty or they're sitting in her living room, or one of the far reaches of the library, they'll goof off a bit. He'll make her laugh and they'll both forget about how trapped they feel sometimes, up here, living the life their parents lived.

She's ok with that for the most part, she loves flying more than anything and she can do that here, but Bobby, Bobby's more restless. He's been that way since his parents died, but it doesn't surprise her any less when he tells her, one afternoon as her diploma exams loom later in the year, that he’s sick of waiting around for an opportunity, he's applied to go to university. Four years some place close enough she can visit if she wants, she's glad to hear, but after that it's off to business school. He's going to make a name for himself, Bobby Martin. His father had done well with Arctic Air, but Bobby was going to do better. He'd out shine his father and everyone else in Yellowknife.

She tells him she's happy for him, and she is, in a way. He's not her best friend, and he's certainly not her boyfriend, but she's going to miss him. She's going to miss him a lot. There's no one else quite like Bobby in her life and she's not sure how to deal with that, which is why she gets drunk for her graduation.

She doesn't intend to. She's not sure she could have pulled it off if that were the case, but by the time she arrives she's slightly buzzed, smiling despite the sinking feeling in her gut. Bobby was due to leave at the end of the week. The next three days would be full of parties and goodbyes for the kids with less patience than Bobby who were headed out of town the first chance they had. There's a chance she'll get to see him again before then, but Monday she started work for Mel fulltime: her commercial pilot’s exam was on Wednesday, her test flight on Thursday.

She should have been working this weekend but Mel, in an uncharacteristic sign of affection, had allowed her to have the entire weekend off to attend the events the school had put together and later to hang out with the rest of the drunk hooligans as he had said frowning at her from the other side of his desk. No drinking, no driving, and no boys he had made her promise in the car outside the gym annex where the graduation ceremony was being held.

She'd nodded, handed him her keys, and headed around to the back of the building to start in on the half empty bottle of liquor she had liberated from Joe, her father’s late night mechanic's locker. The ceremony had ended and she'd slipped off with a couple of her friends to finish off the bottle. Of the four of them, she was the only one staying in Yellowknife, at least according to them, and so they rejoiced, laughing and eventually left her where she'd slumped to the floor to glare at the wall, gown crumpled in her lap, cap tipped precariously on her head.

"You alright?"

"Bobby." She stumbles to her feet, a little unsteady but defiant when he offers to help. "I had a bit of alcohol." She confesses with a grin and he laughs.

"Krista Ivarson drinking that's a first."

"No it's not Bobby." She shoves at his shoulder and he laughs again, wrapping an arm around her.

"My truck's parked out back, why don't we go for a drive?"

"Don't you have some girl, some jock waiting for you to show up somewhere?"

He steers her out the door and pulls his arm away when she seems steady on her feet. "Not till later tonight when all the fun starts. Apparently no one's as clever as you, starting early."

Krista's laugh is dry, the corners of her mouth turned down as they crunch through dried grass over to where his truck is parked on the street. He knew full well she never drank without reason; it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught by Mel. Drinking wasn't tolerated among his pilots, not on his watch.

They're on the highway and driving out of town before he asks her what's up, concern crinkling the corners of his eyes when she hesitates. "I can't go off to school and come back to find out you've drunk yourself off into a snowbank."

She frowns at him and then sighs. "I suck at goodbyes."

"Me too," is all he says.

She reaches over and flicks on the radio as he replies; the resulting sound more static than music but she leaves it until they've pulled off the road into a narrow dirt turnaround.

Bobby fiddles with the radio for a moment and then flicks it off when nothing comes through clear enough to bother with. She watches him: the way he smiles faintly when a strain of a recognizable song filters through, the way his eyelashes flutter when he sighs. It's hypnotizing in a way that only Bobby can be. It's what makes everyone fall in love with him she supposes. It's what makes all the guys want to be his friends and all the girls put out for him even though they know no one will have anything good to say about them when word gets out, and it always does.

It's also what makes her next move a little easier, knowing that maybe if she goes through with it, if she sees him the way everyone else does, just the way everyone else does, it won't hurt so much when he drops her off at her front door later that night and she never sees him again.

She's going to seduce Bobby Martin. She's going to forget about Krista, about the way he makes her laugh, smile, the way he understands, and she's going to be that girl, that girl he's never had. She's going to be that girl. It's a bit more nerve wracking than she expected, not that she'd really thought about it, but she's sure he'll play his part easily enough, no one else has ever had a problem seducing Bobby Martin into bed.

"Krista?" He ends her name with a cough, reaching up to grasp her wrists as she presses her palms into his chest.

"Shhh." She whispers, looks up at him and smiles. "Do you remember that night?" She asks not pulling away. "I must have been thirteen, fourteen. "You found me crying because I thought I'd never find a boy who would want to do more than kiss me."

"I told you they were all assholes."

"You told me you'd sleep with me. If I really wanted to, when I grew up enough to know I was worth more than just a good lay. Remember?"

He nods, unwilling to agree completely until he knows exactly where she's going with this.

"I've had a bit of practice but," she lets him pull one of her hands free to turn it over and trace the lines across her palm. "I thought maybe the offer still stood. For old time sake."

"Krista." Her name sounds too much like it does when Mel says it if she doesn't have the answer he's looking for fast enough and her lip curls up.

"Bobby look," she cuts him off. "We could just pretend I'm a little drunk here okay? Or pretend I'm a sentimental fool but you're not leaving Yellowknife till you sleep with me. Excluding the super geeks I'm sure that'll make everyone in my graduating class. You can brag to all your new friends over drinks on Friday nights."

He obviously doesn't agree with her; he's frowning, something sad in his eyes as she speaks, but he lets her finish before shaking his head.

"Please." She whispers and it's this, whatever it is he sees in her eyes, that seems to change his mind.

"You're so much more than that." He mutters back, echoing that long ago conversation.

"I-" She sighs and pulls her free hand away from him, brushing it against the side of his face. "I don't know how to tell you goodbye and Bobby, I need this."

Normally he would crack some joke about her getting drunk to tell him she missed him before he'd even left but today he only sighs.

"That's fucked up." He says looking passed her out the window, but he doesn't disagree, doesn't stop her when she pulls his hand away from hers and starts in on the buttons of his shirt.

She has her fingers, warm against his skin, when he presses his hands against the sides of her face and kisses her softly. "This isn't going to get you out of coming to visit me you know."

She nods, laughing through the sudden tears in her eyes as he inclines his head toward the seat in the back.

She ends up in his lap so they can fold down the passenger seat and both climb into the back, his hands ghosting her ribs as he makes a show of helping her settle back before he joins her, lips brushing against hers, tongue and teeth until she's gasping and they're both fumbling for buttons, zippers. Her dress gets stuck coming off over her head and as she wiggles, squirming in an attempt to free herself, he tickles her lightly, listening to the light carefree laugh only he's privy to so much of the time.

"Stop it." She shrieks over and over again until he stops, having taken his fill of the sound for the time being.

Her dress comes off and is laid over the front seat. Wrinkling it would mean questions and pouts from Doc Hossa’s wife who had lent it to her, something old that used to belong to one of their daughters. Even then, devoid of her dress, Bobby's still careful with her, tender, not the careless idiots she's slept with before. She's not surprised by that exactly, but the way he whispers to her, coaxing her, pulling her free from herself, from that horrible place she's been sitting in for the last couple of weeks, months, that does. Because even now he makes her feel like her, like she always felt around him like Krista, not Mel Ivarson's daughter, not the girl with the dead mom, Krista.

Bobby's heavy on top of her, despite the elbow he has propped next to her ear supporting most of his weight. She's still coming down from the high, from the booze, from the thought that this might make things easier.

"Fuck." She swears, when a lump wells up in the back of her throat uninvited. "Shit."

She bites her lips and rubs a hand angrily over her eyes. "And now I'm crying like a baby." She finishes returning his concerned look with an apologetic frown.

He sighs and nudges the side of her neck with his nose. "I know what would make you feel better."

"Don't say more liquor." He shakes his head laughing and she catches a glimpse of mischief in his eye. "Bobby, no!" But it's too late, his fingers descending on her ribs, drawing forth peels of laughter.

"I hate you." She shrieks, hands pressed against his shoulder. "Bobby. Bobby. Stop."

She shoves against him until her hands fall away, covering her stomach, her breasts, the ticklish spot on the side of her neck just under her ear as he makes his assault, laughing as she continues squirming, begging.

Eventually he relents, grinning, eyes shining, pulling back a bit so she can catch her breath. "Feel better?" He asks as she scoots her legs back across the seat, nodding.

"I'm never leaving you." He tells her suddenly serious as he picks her dress up to help her slide it over her head. "Not really. Not when you laugh like that."

"But I don't ever laugh like that." She's not following him, but her head's feeling a little fuzzy so she's not trying to hard, not with the nightmare her dress has become, with all of its layers of scratchy tulle to slide down over her still tingling skin.

"You do when you're flying." He smiles softly holding out a hand to help her back into the front. "We'll stop by my place so you can wash that make up off your face before we head back to the school."

She nods and opens her mouth to try and find the words to thank him, but there's nothing there, nothing that can express how she's really feeling so she doesn't say anything and instead flicks the radio on and rolls down her window as they slide back onto the highway. She leans out for a moment, as they round the last bend before the city comes into sight and yells "I fucked Bobby Martin, take that Yellowknife." before falling back onto the seat in a fit of laughter.


End file.
